Dear friend:-
You're here finally and I bow to the one that brought you here. You're here because you chose to be here at this time. You're here to celebrate beauty through words we speak, through deep silence. We might call them poetry or songs or chants. It does not matter what we call them. What matters most is you're here. These words come through us like flowers come through plants, like the rains pour from the sky. May we all become the light we spread, the beauty we speak. Blessings.
Monday, November 28, 2011
the broom
Grace is not what you love.
It is what you are.
You turn away from her
and in the blink of the eye
you meet the twins named anger and fear.
Say the words a thousand times "who am I"
"who am I" with a large space between them.
This is a of broom divine eloquence sweeping your house
From dirt.
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